


Balcony Blues

by poolsidescientist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s04e08 Tunguska, Episode: s11e06 Kitten, F/M, Poor Life Choices, Skinner family - Freeform, season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8318269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poolsidescientist/pseuds/poolsidescientist
Summary: Sharon Skinner understands that her husband sometimes brings his work home with him, but this is crossing the line.





	1. Balcony Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Disclamer: I do not own The X-Files or it's characters.
> 
> Notes: I was re-watching 'Tunguska' and marvelling at how terrible everyone's life choices are in this episode. It's honestly hilarious.

Sharon Skinner was a surprisingly heavy sleeper. After years of her husband’s restlessness during the night, her body had somehow trained itself to sleep through it. In spite of this, she was sensitive to smells and she noticed that Walter was making himself hot cocoa. Something he only did when he was extremely stressed and rarely in the middle of the night. Something was amiss.

She got out of bed and put her slippers on before going downstairs, unsure of what state she would find her husband in. Between work and bad memories from Vietnam, he had a lot on his mind and only so much of it he was willing to share with her. Maybe if he was upset enough she could get him to talk. Sharon tiptoed down the stairs to find a pot of hot cocoa on the stove and the door to the balcony open. Two shadows dark against the curtains. Walter had company, and she was determined to find out who. Arming herself with a meat cleaver hidden in the sleeve of her bathrobe, she walked out onto her balcony.

Her husband was there, with clenched fists and fury in his eyes glaring at the other man, who was handcuffed to the balcony. She was used to Walter bringing his work home with him, but this was on another level. She had to know what was going on.

“Walter, I knew you were talking about spicing up our relationship, but I’m not sure this is the best way to do it.” Bingo. Both men looked at her horrified. One of them was eventually going to have to tell her something.

“Sharon, this man is a murderer and a traitor-”

“Then what is he doing on our balcony in the middle of the night?” Walter looked back at her guiltily. He obviously hadn’t thought this through very well. “How do you know he won’t break out of his handcuffs and murder us in our sleep? If he is a criminal, then why haven’t you brought him into the police station?” The handcuffed man looked as though he was supressing his laughter under his baseball cap. Walter was less amused.

“One of my agents needs him for information. I don’t know all the details but this is the best option we have right now. I’m sorry. He’ll be gone in the morning.”

“Okay, I guess there’s not much we can do about it now. But Walter, please, promise you won’t do this again. I feel really uncomfortable harbouring a fugitive on my balcony.”

Walter’s eyes narrowed at the handcuffed man as he and his wife went back in the house, “It shouldn’t happen again, I’m sorry for putting you through this Sharon.” With that, the handcuffed man couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. “Shut up Krycek,” he growled and shut the door.

Once in, Sharon checked the cocoa on the stove. It was still warm so she poured mugs for herself and her husband. They sat on the couch in silence as they drank. There was still a huge space between them that Sharon wanted to fill.

“Walter, how exactly do you know that man?” She couldn’t help but ask.

Her husband took a huge gulp of hot cocoa and sighed. She could tell it was going to be a long story.


	2. Observations over Oatmeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning comes, and Sharon Skinner still has unwanted guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Ariana (ariana_paris) for your comment that inspired me to write this. As usual, I own nothing.

It was an oatmeal kind of day. Sharon Skinner decided this the moment she opened her eyes. Walter had gotten out of bed but was wandering around downstairs, or so she assumed considering the footsteps she heard. Hopefully it was him and not the fugitive handcuffed to the balcony. She wondered if he was still there. The worst case scenario was that he had somehow got into the house and murdered her husband. Sharon was still mad about the whole situation, she didn’t appreciate her husband using the balcony as a motel for murderers, or whatever crimes that man had committed. Walter had told her he was a former FBI agent gone rogue but not much else.

The footsteps downstairs continued. She was still somewhat concerned about what might be going on the lower floor so she decided to sneak down and take a look. Sharon put her robe over her pyjamas and stepped into her slippers. It was a cold morning. If balcony man were still there, he probably had hypothermia. She tiptoed to the top of her staircase and peeked down. There was a man in her apartment, but it wasn’t her husband. She had never seen him before in her life.

Sharon repressed a scream as she watched him rummage through her husband’s desk. What else was Walter hiding in their apartment? She was going to have a very long chat with her husband when he got home, provided the intruded didn’t murder her first. After several minutes of watching the man through Walter’s personal belongings, she heard a noise from out on the balcony. The intruder must have heard it too as he went outside to investigate it. A moment of silence followed. After that, a scuffle, a scream, and a splat. Then silence. If there was a dead body out there, it would be up to her husband to clean up the mess.

Still, she had a right to know what was going on in her own apartment. She tiptoed down the stairs towards the open door. Sharon looked out, there was no one on the balcony. Ready to head back inside, she heard a grunt and looked over the edge. The man who had invaded her apartment was now a corpse on the sidewalk. And the man who had previously been on her balcony was now hanging off of it by his handcuffs.

Sharon took a risk and held out her hand so that he could climb back on the balcony.

“Thank you,” he answered quietly, somewhere between gratitude and frustration. She nodded and went back in the apartment.

Despite, or maybe because of all the upheaval, it was still an oatmeal kind of day. Sharon set the water to boil as she got out the rest of the ingredient. Milk, walnuts, and dried cranberries would make a nice addition. Stirring the oatmeal into the boiling water, she decided to make a bowl for balcony man, he did accidentally save her life after all. He wasn’t exactly bad looking either, Sharon smirked as she scooped the oatmeal into bowls. So many possible ways to get back at her husband for putting her through this ordeal. For now, she would stick to feeding his prisoner. If anything she was doing her husband a favour, hungry people are rarely pleasant to deal with.

“Oatmeal?” She asked balcony man, carrying the bowls of oatmeal outside.

“Please.” His eyes lit up like a starving animal. He resembled a cat who had been leashed to a fence and resented his capture.

“They ate in silence. Despite being handcuffed, he ate quickly. He had done this before.

“My name is Sharon.” She said, breaking the silence.

“Alex,” he answered.

“Okay Alex, I have no idea who you are or what you’ve done. I don’t have any personal grievances with you but I don’t trust you either. You stay here and I won’t bother you. If anyone asks, I’ll have nothing to say about you.” At this, he nodded in understanding. They had both finished their oatmeal and she brought the bowls inside. Sharon closed the door but did not lock it. She was tired of strangers on the property. Maybe it was time to call her cousins who Walter hated and invite them to stay for a week.


	3. Tea and Half-Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over a decade later, Sharon Skinner gets a visitor on her balcony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no new episode this week and they didn't mention Sharon in last week's Skinner-centric episode so my dumb ass wrote an epilogue to this. I don't own the X-Files, sometimes I don't even feel like I own my own brain.

Sharon Skinner’s hands shook as she dipped her lemon-ginger tea bag into a mug. It was turning out to be a terrible day. She had come home early from visiting her niece due having gotten a terrible cold. Walter had sent her a text saying that he had urgent business regarding an old army friend and told her not to look for him. To top it all off, sitting on her kitchen table were a human ear and a newspaper clipping. Sharon regretting ever getting out of bed that morning.

Slumping into her couch, she noticed that the everything in the apartment had been slightly moved around. Again. Over the years, she and Walter had their apartment broken into so many times that they had given up on any form of decoration. Photo albums and other valuables were hidden in a safe in their bedroom. Thankfully, these objects seemed to be ignored by whatever thug of the month had been sent in to trash their home. She shuddered to think of what might have happened to them were Walter not an FBI assistant director.

Sharon rubbed her eyes and noticed a shadowy figure outside on the balcony. She took a sip of her tea and tried to ignore it. Unfortunately for Sharon, the tea scalded her tongue and the shadowy figure was still there, it appeared to be waiting. Wondering what kind of melodramatic moron lurked on an apartment balcony, she forced herself off of the couch and tiptoed towards the backdoor. It wasn’t as though Sharon’s day could get any worse.

Sneezing and somewhat delirious, she opened the curtains and walked outside. Being as sick as she was, Sharon didn’t feel as though she had anything to lose.

“You know, it’s a nice balcony. Much nicer when you’re not handcuffed to it overnight,” the man on balcony smirked, green eyes looking down at her. It took Sharon a second to recognise him, but soon enough she realised he was the awol FBI agent that Walter had tied to the balcony over a decade ago. He was older now, his left arm seemed stiffer than his right, and he seemed more at ease, but it was undeniably the same man.

“Walter’s not he-,” Sharon sneezed on the intruder, “here right now. I don’t know where he is.”

“I know. His subordinates Mulder and Scully were though. Wherever he’s gone, it sounds like they’re following. At least that’s what I heard. They never did come out to the balcony.” 

“You mean three people broke into my house today?!” If she were any healthier, Sharon would be livid. All she could manage for now was a weak cough and a grimace.

“Well, when you put it that way I guess it’s true.”

“Walter’s subordinates were looking for him, but what are you looking for?” Her glared up at the man on the balcony. He reached a gloved hand into his leather jacket and pulled out some heavy-looking files.

“Your husband is the one looking for answers. Answers about his own past,” he handed her the files, “I made his life very difficult for a long time, handing these over is the least I can do.”

Sharon looked down at the files in her hands. She had no idea what was in them but somehow they felt heavier than any stack of paper had a right to be.


End file.
